


Visions in the Mist

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 11:42:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A foggy night, a bit of confusion</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visions in the Mist

[ ](http://s1091.photobucket.com/albums/i398/merentha13/?action=view&current=fog1.jpg)

Fog swirled around his feet, rising like steam from the puddles on the tarmac, silently following him as he crept along the street.  He could barely see a meter in front of himself.  The world around him seemed to have been dipped in a murky grey-brown dye.  The few working streetlamps were haloed in dim rings of pallid light, casting odd shadows that added to the eerie feel of the night.  Danger loomed here and his instincts were screaming. 

A gust of wind momentarily thinned the fog in front of him.  He drew in a sharp breath as an ephemeral shape approached him.  The sound of footsteps echoed oddly, as if his ears were filled with cotton. 

“Bodie?” He whispered, but he knew Bodie was too far away to hear him; he knew that was his fault.

He heard a gently mocking laugh and then the sound of something rolling along the rain-slick alley.  The footsteps hurried away.  A cold fear feathered its way up his spine.

More footfalls, coming up from behind him, and a voice shouted, “Down!”  There was a loud concussion of sound and the fog was vaporised in a brilliant shower of white light.  A sharp blow to the head tumbled him into darkness.

###

The last image he’d seen wouldn’t let him go.  As he struggled towards consciousness, the figure obscured by fog, was moving away from him, ignoring his pleas to stop.  The distance between them increased as he tried to catch up.  Bodie.  Bodie was walking away.  Empty, bereft, he realized he’d finally pushed hard enough to drive his partner away.  His own bitter laugh surprised him.  Wasn’t it just a year ago that he would have been more than happy to see the back of that irritating sod?  When Cowley had paired them up, he’d thought W.A.P. Bodie the most infuriating man he’d ever had the misfortune to meet, let alone be partnered with.  Time had changed that.

The words he’d hurled at Bodie just hours before this op shamed him.  The two of them had been on the move for days, chasing down leads, without a decent chance for rest.  They’d stolen a few minutes for a cuppa.  Both their tempers were ragged.  Where Bodie internalised his tension, it was his own custom to lash out.  Bodie normally understood and took it in stride; let it run like water off his back.  But this time – this time Bodie had walked away.  Bodie’s words, spoken in a tone that had never been directed at his partner before, came back to haunt him.

_“I’ve had enough.  You’re a bloody selfish bastard, Doyle, when you’re hurting.  Ever think maybe_ you _should be the one to offer some comfort sometime?”_

And Bodie had left him sitting alone in the cafe. 

When they met at the car several hours later, they shared an uncomfortably silent ride to the wharf, Bodie’s mood as impenetrable and unforgiving as the fog covering the docks.  They split up, Bodie covering the back entrance to the warehouse while he took the front, no one watching his back.

But no, that was wrong.  Bodie’s voice had called out the warning just before the world exploded.  A voice he could still hear.

“C’mon, mate.  Time to wake up.”

“Bodie!”  He cried out against his vision of Bodie disappearing into the fog.

A warm hand softly tapped his cheek, while another shook his shoulder. 

Slowly he came around, the haze clearing.  His head hurt.  He was lying in the street; a medic was checking him over.  He looked around frantically, trying to sit up.  “Bodie...” 

“’m here, Ray.” 

“Thought you’d gone – thought you’d left.” 

“Nah, where would I go without you, hmm?”  A gentle finger brushed the hair back from his forehead. 

He closed his eyes and released a deep sigh in relief.  He’d had it wrong all the time.  The figure in the mist had been walking towards him.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Weekly Obbo at Teas and Swiss Roll prompts: dye/misfortune/picture prompt


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